


Bedtime Stories

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Bagginshield ficlets, mostly involving beds, not necessarily smutty. Tags and warnings in each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Make Me Quiet, Make Me Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that I am writing these (particularly the first two) while not updating my Big Bang and Reverse Big Bang, but there are reasons for that.  
> I've been suffering from a long spell of writer's block - or maybe just writer's apathy. Just been unable to write what I want.  
> And it's been the last few weeks of class and exams will be coming in one and a half weeks. Word to the wise, kiddies: Don't do dentistry.
> 
> These are posted on my tumblr, but will be crossposted here because I like my fics in one place. (also: comments, love 'em.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin make a deal with each other; a deal that promises pleasure for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Modern AU (human), Smut, bottom!Thorin, Banter.  
> Warnings: Smut.

“Slower.”

“As you wish.”

Thorin hummed. “Love you too.” He lay on his side, one leg bent at the knee. Bilbo was behind him, but seated on the bed rather than stretched along it.

Bilbo snorted. “Of course you do, I’ve my fingers up your –”

“You agreed.”

“It is a win-win on my end.” He snickered. “Or your end, actually.”

Thorin chose not to reply. Bilbo’s fingers were very skilful and moved, as he’d requested, very slowly. He half hid his face in the pillow and pulled his knee up closer to his chest. It was late afternoon according to the wall clock and the sun that shone through the half-closed blinds. He felt warm and pleased.

“Is it good?”

“Mmm,” he managed, hoping it sounded enough like assent.

“Enough that you’ll uphold your side of the bargain?”

God. Thorin turned his head enough to glare. “You know I will.”

Bilbo didn’t look at all repentant. “I want this in writing.”

“Can’t we just keep it a verbal contract?”

“No. I can’t put lots of ridiculous clauses in otherwise.”

Thorin groaned, both because Bilbo was being trying and because he was taking advantage of having found Thorin’s prostate. It took him a long moment to remember how to find words and another moment to string appropriate ones together. “Will you ever let that go?”

“I’m thinking articles on frequency of sexual congress, and maybe one on what accents we’re allowed to use during roleplay, and of course – of course! – who deals with the wet spot at the end.”

“How can you still _speak_?”

“Think it’s because I have all my clothes on.”

He dropped the timbre of his voice, trying for seductive. “That can’t be very comfortable.” This would’ve been easier if he could touch Bilbo, slide a hand down his side and grasp at the soft flesh around his waist. “Get rid of them and you can come here and do me properly.”

“But the last time I did that you couldn’t walk. However will you go to the kitchen?” Thorin couldn’t tell if this was genuine concern or teasing.

“I can cook while seated.”

“Really?”

“Well _I_ can sit down and still be able to reach the stove.”

Bilbo’s revenge came swiftly and on spread fingers, and Thorin cursed loudly even as his body insisted on betraying him by trying to move closer. Bilbo was in all ways maddening and wonderful, and this was a perfect example.

He pushed some dark hair away from Thorin’s face, tucking it behind one ear. “It’s funny that you think you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious. And I want you. Not just your fingers.”

“Good,” Bilbo said lightly. “You’re going to take me. _All_ of me.”

* * *

It was fortunate Thorin was already on his back. His thighs were trembling and in no shape to hold his weight.

His legs were spread and knees pushed up almost to his shoulders as Bilbo had commanded earlier. Bilbo was leaning forward; his hands were firm on Thorin’s thighs to give him the leverage to move his whole body in a way that made fireworks burst in Thorin’s vision. He was good at this, very good at making Thorin come undone, and Thorin always made this clear. To be honest, Bilbo’s skill was the reason he’d made his promise in the first place.

“Might –” Bilbo broke off with a grunt. “Might want to be a – a little quieter.”

He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, panting wetly. “Why?”

“Neighbours.”

“Who gives a _damn_ what they think?”

“If experience ‘s anything to go by,” Bilbo grinned, “it’s you.”

The good thing about being in the middle of sex was that Thorin’s skin was already flushed. Bilbo could still probably tell that he was freshly blushing, though. “You could…” His eyes slipped closed and he moaned loudly, “Mmmake me quiet. You could –”

“But I love listening.” Bilbo’s grip shifted a little, nails digging into Thorin’s skin. “And I love watching.”

“And touching?” Thorin asked hopefully, gazing up at Bilbo through his eyelashes. That usually worked. The gazing-up-at part, not the asking nicely, no matter how much Bilbo nattered about him needing to be more polite.

“Nope.”

Bloody typical. He’d have complained – politeness definitely wouldn’t be present – but increased pressure on the backs of his thighs meant that Bilbo wanted him to cant his hips. Thorin obediently obliged and when Bilbo moved, oh God, oh _fuck_ , yes, yes –

“Good,” Bilbo breathed and reached down to take Thorin in hand.

Things got rather louder after that but all Thorin could care about was Bilbo’s cock slickly sliding in and out of him. Even after he’d spilled over his belly and Bilbo’s hand, there was pleasure to be found in the ever quickening snaps of Bilbo’s hips. Every oversensitive fizzle of satisfaction curled around Thorin’s spine; he praised Bilbo’s name when he could control his brain-to-mouth function, he whimpered and gasped when he could not.

Bilbo came with a strangled cry, fingers pressed bruisingly into Thorin’s skin (marks he would wear with pride). He stayed buried in Thorin for a long moment as they fought to steady their breaths; both were still panting when he pulled out and collapsed onto the bed.

After flailing a bit, Thorin managed to pat Bilbo’s arm, planting a messy kiss on the skin nearest to him. It surprised him that that skin ended up being that of his own arm. Hmm. Perhaps Bilbo had done too good a job of frying his brain.

Well, he wasn’t complaining. His thighs were still shaking, his spine felt like it was melted, and every inch of him hummed with satisfaction. He’d definitely gotten the better end (heh) of their bargain. He said as much to Bilbo (after regaining control of his speech).

“I feel like I should be worried.” Bilbo was wheezing slightly and that made Thorin rather proud. “You so readily promise anything just to get fucked.”

Thorin snorted. “You should be more worried that you’d do anything for curry.”


	2. What Comfort There Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo reunite in their quarters. Inspired by [this pic](http://diemarysues.tumblr.com/post/121977936676/impsexual-ignore-the-bad-anatomy-and-enjoy-the).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Smut, Handjobs, Fluff, Clothed Sex.  
> Warnings: Smut.

“It seems that I am able to sneak up on you, my Hobbit.”

Bilbo laughs and looks up from his book. “If I hadn’t known you were there, I’d be a great deal less calm than I am now.” His eyes do not stray from Thorin’s and his heart does not quicken its beat though the ache that had housed there bleeds away. His smile is wobbly at the corners. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

“I have counted the nights we’ve been apart.”

“But not the days?”

“I did not have duties to distract me during the night.” He smirks. “Only my hands, sometimes.”

“Terrible.” A scrap of leather marks his place and he places the book on the table beside him. “Has everything been settled?”

Thorin shakes his head. Before Bilbo can comment he says, “Can we speak of this tomorrow? We’ve other things to talk about.” He walks towards the bed, intention clear in every step. “And to do.”

Oh, he has _missed_ Thorin. That he will now be able to touch him after so many months has Bilbo impatiently kicking the sheets down to free himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. But his feet have hardly touched the marble before Thorin tells him to stop.

“What –?”

“Just a moment, dear one.”

The bed dips and Bilbo wants to turn but Thorin presses two fingers to his jaw to still him. He shushes Bilbo before he can even open his mouth.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything,” he grumps.

“Liar.” Thorin softens his (incredibly untrue) accusation with a kiss to his temple. Bilbo shivers when another kiss lands on the tip of his ear and laughs a little when Thorin nuzzles the skin behind it. Thorin makes his way down Bilbo’s neck; his kisses are chaste and light, accompanied by the soft tickle of his beard.

There are only two buttons at the top of Bilbo’s nightshirt to hold the collar closed, and Thorin undoes both. He very deliberately pulls at the cloth and Bilbo imagines that his gaze is intent on every inch of skin that’s exposed. The nightshirt only allows one shoulder be bare and Bilbo sighs when Thorin’s breath ghosts along it.

“I have tried to imagine you, on all those nights without you by my side,” Thorin says quietly. “But I could not do you justice. I could not imagine this perfection.”

He wants to call Thorin sappy but every one of those words make him feel loved and cherished. His toes curl. “Our bed has been very cold. Very lonely.”

“Tonight we are together. I will warm you.” Thorin runs his nose – and a very attractive nose it is, Bilbo’s missed that too – up Bilbo’s neck, breathing deeply. Goosebumps rise in his wake. 

Bilbo’s bunches his shirt in his hands, rubs the cloth between his thumbs and the pads of his fingers. It’s a way to keep his hands busy in lieu of being able to touch Thorin. Unlike Thorin he’d not satisfied himself while they’d been apart – lacking the inclination – and now every touch is as intoxicating as it has been missed. “I love…” His fingers fist. “Oh, Thorin.”

“Yes?”

“You. I love you.”

Thorin chuckles and then places a quick, smacking kiss to his cheek. “I have missed you saying that to me.” He nips the point of Bilbo’s ear.

“Be careful,” Bilbo warns, covering any whimpers that’re called forth as Thorin continues to nibble and suck. He’s not wearing smallclothes tonight – purely coincidentally – and it’s a relief that there is no confining pressure on his cock. “Else you’ll continue your relationship with your hands.”

“I have also missed you saying that.”

He can’t help but laugh and it turns into a drawn out moan. Thorin’s nibbling has moved to the angle of his jaw; he alternates the sharp of his teeth with open-mouthed kisses, maddening and soothing all at once.

“Keep going,” he breathes, eyelids fluttering closed.

“Of course.” Thorin pulls his nightshirt up his thighs, and then up and over so Bilbo’s cock is bared as the cloth settles around his hips. Bilbo takes himself in hand before Thorin can, smiling when Thorin makes an annoyed sound. “That is supposed to be my job.”

“I have to touch myself,” Bilbo replies tartly, “since I am not allowed to touch you.” 

“I did not disallow that.”

“It’s a little difficult to do any touching when you are plastered against me. I am no longer young and flexible.” They have experimented in the past and not necessarily with positive results – like the (disastrous) time with the harp. Both of them are middle-aged, after all.

“I do not need you to be either. I love you as is.” Thorin wraps an arm around Bilbo’s chest with his hand resting over his heart. Having Thorin’s bulk pressed to his back, fur tickling the back of his neck and scales of metal as cool points on his skin, reminds Bilbo of their first time together when there’d been more lust than love. So many things have changed since then – especially the rings they wear – but the desire between them remains.

“You’re still dressed,” he murmurs.

“Mmm,” Thorin says into the join of Bilbo’s neck and shoulder. He covers Bilbo’s hand with his own, sometimes following Bilbo’s pace and sometimes doing as he liked, teasing the head or dipping to the base, grip sometimes firm and sometimes feathery. “So are you.”

“Not the same.” His eyes are still closed. He can feel the heat in his cheeks. Reaching up with his free hand he hooks his fingers over Thorin’s vambraces. “Your clothes ought to be on the floor.” Preferably folded on the dresser. It’s a small consolation that his boots had been discarded. “And I should be able to see all of you.”

“You will,” he promises. “But first,” Thorin bats away Bilbo’s hand so he can stroke and fondle Bilbo’s cock without interruption. “Just let me…”

Bilbo smiles. “ _Thorin_.”


	3. Atlantis AU - as of yet unnamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'll ever write a proper fic for this, or maybe a collection of ficlets, but here's my contribution to the Atlantis AU going around tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Tags for this Chapter: Atlantis!AU  
> Warnings: None.

“Do you not wish to rest?”

Bilbo started. He hadn’t noticed that Thorin was so close, too absorbed in the play of blue-white light on gems and marble. They sat atop a tower made of stone and decorated with tiny tiles made into colourful patterns. “I’m not tired,” he said (and he was truly untired, for once). “I don’t think I want to sleep. I’d miss so many things, too many.”

“You will have time to explore Erebor,” Thorin pointed out. He used his fingers to comb his hair to one side. “There are some areas you are not permitted to enter but for others I will be your guide, gladly.”

An ache had started in Bilbo’s chest – one that had nothing to with his allergies or asthma – and he hoped that his smile covered any discomfort that’d crawled across his face. “I’m glad to hear it. But, well, I don’t know how long we will be here for. Thanks to the White Warg we lost most of our supplies and –”

“We will be happy to make up for the lack.” 

“And I’m – we’ll be happy to receive them. Thank you.”

Thorin shifted, no longer sitting cross-legged, one knee pulled to his chest as he turned to face Bilbo properly. He did not wear loose robes as the King did – since they would only encumber him – and Bilbo was free to watch the flex and relax of his muscles. “There is more you have to say.”

“I think we will be leaving soon. Maybe even tomorrow.” A bird flew past. Bilbo chose to track its progress; that way he didn’t have to meet Thorin’s blue eyes. It was strange how intense they were, even more so than the gem he wore around his neck. “I, we have to return. Back to – um, up there.”

“Isn’t exploring the whole reason you are here?” Oh, his voice was absolutely lovely. “The other, Bard, he said that this is your life’s work.”

“Yes.” It was clear to everyone who knew him or knew of him. He had decided long ago that he would continue his mother’s work and had for so long petitioned for a benefactor to do so. He had little time and inclination to pursue anything outside of this and that’d made him infamous. “And I’m already middle-aged.”

“Then finding this place has realised your dreams. It is the fruit of all your work. Why wouldn’t you wish to savour it?”

He shook his head. “We thought that all we’d find was ruins. Remains of Erebor.” Even that had been pushing the boundaries of his hope. “Not, not a still standing city with people and –” Bilbo swallowed. “And you…”

“Shouldn’t that be a reason to stay longer?”

Bilbo was twisting his fingers together in his nervousness. It wasn’t that Thorin was speaking nonsense, he wasn’t, but someone had to be realistic. Soon he and the others would leave. Soon he would return to the Shire. And the Shire was lovely to be sure – although it now seemed pallid compared with Erebor – and Bilbo should be looking forward to settling home, even though it would be with people that’d still consider him a loon because really, who would believe that Mad Baggins had actually found the fantastical land he was obsessed with?

He should be looking forward to settling home even if Bag End suddenly no longer felt like one.

“Bilbo?” Thorin was closer than before. Bilbo again wondered if the blue marks on his skin were painted on or permanent. They were quite fetching.

“The time of our departure is not my decision to make but I must leave with the rest of the expedition.” What was left of it. “That is my only transport. Erebor is too far from the surface; there will be no other way to return to my ho – to return.”

“Then do not return. It sounds like staying is your preference.” Thorin dropped his gaze for a moment; he placed his hand atop Bilbo’s to still them. “I cannot explain how I know, only that I do.” He stroked two fingers along the underside of Bilbo’s jaw. “You want to stay.”

“I want to stay,” Bilbo said, then kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts are welcome, though not all will be filled. I hope you won't take offense.


End file.
